The second part of the story I spruced up, nothing really to note here.
You leaned down, pressing a chaste and quick kiss to her parted lips, your hands still sunk into the plump flesh of her thighs. Though the kiss didn't last long, not when your real prize lay just a little below, you shifted until you could take one of those tempting nipples into your mouth, swiping your tongue along the simple bar that pierced the nipple, reveling in the metallic taste that danced along your tongue. Your head was bowed now, but you could hear the effect on her, those low groans melting into soft whiney whimpers, her chest shuddering with deepened lustful pleasure. You kept your hips as still as you could manage, but the way she kept arching her own hips, squirming and all but bucking up against you, it was hard to.
You couldn't wait any longer, not when lust, and desire, and need, was welling up in your chest, like an open wound spilling crimson onto the amber sands of the beach. You pulled your hips back, switching your mouth to her other nipple, the way she whined at the loss of fullness from the toy had your cunt clenching around nothing, stars the way she sounded now was better than any drug you dream of. You had to have her, had to fill her, had to ruin her. You switched your oral ministrations to her mouth once more, tongue pressing forward, swallowing those needy whines, tasting the faint bitter silicone on her own tongue yet, and finally started fucking her proper.
Your hips snapped forward, driving the toy into her as far as your could, the heavy red knot pressing against the rim of her eager hole once more "L-lover" She managed to plead weakly "Lover please" a desperate and eager begging from your desperate and eager girl "Yes? My good girl?" You murmured from around the kiss "Please" came the broken whisper "Please fuck me" you would have teased her more, drawn out more of those pathetic sounds if you had the patience, if your own desire wasn't already soaking into the harness, and even going so far as to drool down your thighs, but you needed her.
"Of course, My good girl" you would groan into the messy kiss, before you started an sharp pace of thrusting into her, every thrust into her only pulled out louder moans and guttural whines anew, all happily swallowed in the kiss. Quickly, with the pace set, her hips with rolling and bucking in time with yours, each thrust opening her up more and more, and you could tell she was desperate for the knot already.
Each sound, every jerking movement, the flush of her skin, the bob of her cock, it was all being ingrained in your memory, you only wish you had the foresight to have started recording this, oh well, you'd simply have to recreate it later in front of a camera, just so you could watch it back. Though already, her eyes were getting that happy fuzzy glaze in them, you knew she was enjoying this, but seeing go all cock dumb for a silicone toy strapped to your hips was bliss, but you wanted her aware, you wanted her to look at you, you wanted her to watch you ruin her.
Letting go of her her thighs, you shifted her legs over your shoulder, leaning over her more, driving the toy in deeper at a new angle, her sounds pitched higher, reaching a peak of inaudible whine as you pumped yourself into her, your hands, now free, went for her wrists, pinning them above her head in the chair "C'mon Good Girl, Look at me, watch me, don't you dare take your eyes off me" And oh stars did she ever, the focus returned in her eyes, the obedience coming before all else.
Your name was spilling from her lips now, over and over again, like a prayer to a divine creature, and the way she was looking at you, it made you feel holy as well, like you were her god, her one and only, her everything, able to reduce her into nothing, or build her up into something far grander than she could ever hope to be. She was close now, you could tell. The way her hip movements were getting more uncoordinated, the way she was leaking from her cock, the way she was squeezing around the toy. "Please Lover" she managed between breathless and broken moans "PleasePleasepleasepleasePLeAse I'm so fucking close please please let me cum pleaseeeee" Oh you would, but not before you made her take the knot, you needed to fill her.
You pushed harder, thrusted deeper, pressed your hips forward with need anew. You didn't stop her eyes from glazing over this time, not when they threatened to roll back into her head like this "Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckkkkk" Came the pleading and broken whimpers, just before you managed to slip the heavy knot inside her hole. A constant stream of sweet precum was interrupted by a heavy gush of cum painting her chest with alabaster nectar. You reached down by your hip, finding the plunger for the toy, and depressed it with a groan, knowing she was feeling full already, and enjoying the thought of only making it better for her.
Her body froze, arched off the chair, painted with sweat, cum, and the golden sands that still clung to her legs, her cock was twitching hard still, and the spurts of cum slowed back down into a lazy drool of creamy sweetness. The comedown took some time, but eventually she slumped back into the chair, cooing and moaning softly, you didn't pull out, not yet, not when you could simply lean forward, lay against your girl, enjoy the heavy breath, and pounding thrum of her heart in her chest. Her hands eventually came down to caress at your shoulders and back, drawing idle patterns in the flesh of your shoulders "So, Does my good girl want a round two?" You chuckled with a slight roll of your hips, making her whine and gasp "Please, I need a drink first" she groaned weakly "But we're not done with that for the night, don't you worry, Lover" she murmured with a low breath.
This is an old story of mine for someone that I've rewritten, It used to be like, 10 paragraphs and a little less well written, but I've cleaned it up and spruced it up. I do have to break it into two parts, it's just a litttlllle long
Hope you all enjoy~
The waves on the beach, the screeching seagulls overhead, the hot sun beating down from the horizon, it was a beautiful day for lounging on the beach.
Said beach was of course private, the two of you had paid a pretty penny to rent out the area for the month, including a rather quaint cabin a ways up, and of course you had christened the cabin a fair few times over the past week, leaving your fair share of mixed fluids in the sheets, and the couch, and the loveseat, the kitchen counter, against several walls, the shower, the bathroom sink, and once even bent over the railing of the porch. But none of that was of consequence now.
Not when you were finally enjoying the beach with your girl. Your girl, who was currently, in her words "melting like a sloppy ice cream cone on the fuckin' pavement" She really wasn't used to heat of any kind, much more comfortable in the snow or rain.
She was sweating far more than you were, even under the shade of her beach umbrella, even as she was lounging in her chair. But you weren't really paying attention to her suffering....well you were, I mean after all, the thought of her sweaty and musky would do things to you on a bad day, but on a good one like this? It would be borderline enough to drive you wild. But that's not why you were distracted, no, it was her attire.
See, normally your girl was always about covering up, she loved to bum around in her oversized hoodies and sweatpants, always covered up. Sure she wasn't shy about flashing you, or lounging around naked with you, but she was punky, and preferred comfort over style any day of the week. Which is why you were staring. Currently, she was wearing a one piece swimsuit, a leopard print too. She had said "Makes me look like a hot milf, I dig that shit" when you had gone shopping with her to pick one out, her first "girly" swimsuit was a big choice after all, but with her wearing something so much more revealing than her normal attire, it was hard not to stare.
Her arms were scared faintly, a mixture of a lifetime of roughing it, and serries of bad depression episodes that painted fine white lines between her intricate lines of tattooed flesh, she was strong, but she didn't have any showy muscles, all her muscles were practical, and earned from hard work out on farms and factories rather than the gym. Her legs just as much so, more winding tattoos of vines, and band logos, and doodles, strong calves, thick thighs that were still covered in those scars. That plump and pudgy tummy, the pleasing heft of her chest pulled tight in the fabric of the swimsuit, it was working you up far more than any of the time you spent on your back for her in the cabin. And you had just the thing to ramp this lazy lounging up to an 11.
You went digging into your bag for your surprise gift, the bad dragon dildo that she had been drooling over since before you had met her years ago even. The Rex, with cum tube and strap-on harness. You had lost track of how many times she had drooled over the thought of the toy and talked with fevor about all the things she could do to you with it. Fortunately for you, the toy had gone on sale only a month before the two of you had planned this little vacation, and you just had to grab it for her.
You hid the surprise gift behind your back (with some difficulty, there was so many straps and the tube and stars if this thing wasn't big) and strode over to her spot in the sand. The beach chair dipped slightly as she turned to face you, and up close she was even more alluring. The sand that dusted her legs occasionally caught rays of light, almost looking like microscopic crystals embedded in her skin, and even through her scratched sunglasses you could see her eyes light up.
"Lover" she purred, her lips splitting into that easy, charming grin. She was always pretty...well no, not pretty, she was hot, attractive, a fucking bombshell sure, but she was more of a rugged sort of handsome girl, the punky vibe the girl had come to be known for played into that, especially with the variety of piercings that lined her face, snake bites, a nose ring, a set of eyebrow bars, a slew of piercings in her ears. Not to mention her face, long black hair (it was always a nightmare when she redyed it) her eyes, always half lidded like she was glaring, yeah, your girl was handsome~ "What cha got there lover?" She hummed curiously, already trying to lean to the side to peek behind you.
"A surprise" you replied, a flutter of nerves in your stomach, you knew she'd like it, but you could never get rid of the nervous flutters in your chest, not like her at least, your girl was always so sure-footed, so sure of herself, she really was amazing "Do me a favor, close your eyes" Your girl gave a pleased little chuckle, before leaning back in her chair "sure, of course lover" she hummed, and just like that, her eyes were closed.
You forget sometimes, that the same girl who would whisper dirty things into your ear in public, the same girl who would pin you down and edge your orgasm for the better part of an hour, the same girl who would fuck you senseless into the pillows, was a switch. She was so in control of herself all the time, and to be fair you loved being her bottom, her pretty puppy girl to order around and take it. But you did get your streaks of dominance, and right now, that streak was flaring up.
Something about seeing her like this, exposed to you and you alone, mindlessly obeying an order, no, not even an order, a request. Well...it made your heart race. "Good, now keep 'em closed for me, good girl" you murmured. Oh the little falter in her demeanor should be illegal. The way that cocky smile faltered, the little part of her lips, the ever faint breath she took, it was bliss. Your girl still tried to keep up the attitude though "Oh? I'm a good girl now am I?" She purred, but it was just bravado now, you could tell by the way her thighs clenched and there was a faint movement from the front of her swimsuit.
"Yes, specifically you're my good girl" you murmured, practically preening as you watched the reaction you were getting, but there would be time for that later, for now you focused on getting your bikini bottoms off, shoving them down with your one free hand and kicking them to the side, you had to be careful while you strapped on the silicone knotted dog cock, you didn't want the noise to clue her in. You could tell she was trying to listen, her ears straining to give her any context of what's to come. You moved carefully, taking gentle steps in the warm sand underfoot until you were standing beside her chair, beside her face. She half turned her head, looking right up at you. You thought for a moment that she had to have peeked, but you were reassured by the look of uncertainty that painted her grin "Lover?" She chirped nervously.
You shifted just a little closer, the tip of the toy just under her nose, and watched with barely restrained glee as she sniffed curiously, her brow scrunching up at the scent of silicone, likely she knew it was familiar but couldn't place where she had smelt it before "L-lover?" Oh the uncertainty in her voice was like a drug, the anticipation was so much fun to use as a toy.
"Open your mouth for me, good girl" you murmured quietly, the tremor in your voice betraying your nerves. But she did it, after a moment of another confused sound, she opened her mouth, her tongue pressing against her lower lip. Fuck if it wasn't a sight to see, the little red flush on her cheeks that open mouth, warm, wet, inviting. You couldn't help yourself, pushing the tip of your silicone cock forward until the tip slid along her tongue and into her open mouth.
The sound she made was sinful, the little surprised whine, the slight recoil, the heavier flush painting her face. But she still melted into it, the moment she realized what was on her tongue, she leaned forward into it, taking more of your fake cock into her mouth, you might not be able to feel it, but it made you groan all the same, an eager girl wrapping her lips around your cock and all but moaning around it.
You let your fingers tangle in her hair, and started to roll your hips, gentle shallow thrusts, easing more and more into her eager mouth, watching enthralled as every time you pulled out, more and more drool was coated the red length of the knotted cock, up until the point where she was gagging as it nudged at the back of her throat, her hands splayed against your thighs, fingers digging into your flesh, nails sure to leave little crescent marks, bound to sting later, but right now it was bliss, it was passion, it was her need for you incarnate.
Pulling away from her mouth, you watched her gasp and sputter briefly, a string of drool connecting her lips to your cock for an agonizingly long moment. Stars, she even tried to lean forward to pull you back into her mouth, but your hands in her hair pulled her back, making her whine. As tempting as it was to fuck her throat until she was a mess, you had other ideas. You shifted your grip to her shoulders, pushing her back down to the chair, fumbling by the bend until you found the lever, sending the chair flat and your girl onto her back with a startled yelp.
Her eyes were still closed, she was so obedient, such a good girl for you. Even when you started to tug at the straps of her one piece, pulling it down, exposing those heavy tits to your grasp, the pierced nipples calling to you. In due time of course. You straddled her stomach, letting the heavy silicone toy rest rest between her tits "Feel that, pretty girl?" You whispered huskily, your fingers sinking into the soft flesh of her chest, pulling them apart so you could settle the toy between them properly, rolling your hips gently, sliding it up and down between her tits "All of that? It's going inside you"
That pulled another whimper from your girl, you couldn't see her eyes still, and that wouldn't do, you wanted her to look at you, wanted to see that look of need in her eyes. So you reached down to pluck the sunglasses from her face, tossing them to the side onto the sand "Open your eyes, look at me" you murmured, low and demanding. Those eyes, those dark forest greens were wide, meeting your gaze, full of the dark need that you needed "Fuck you're so pretty" you grunted, giving another roll of your hips, letting the tip bump against her throat before you started to shimmy down, pulling her swimsuit as you went, finally tossing it off to the side, leaving her bare for you again.
The sun had painted her skin, a faint darker tone on her arms and legs, a clear line from where she had been wearing her one piece, the sight left you breathless. Her cock was hard, already leaking sweet beads of precum that would roll down the underside of her shaft, making your mouth water. There would be time for that later though, you were more invested in what lay lower. You finally settled between her knees, your hands shifting under her knees and pushing them up towards her chest. Your girl squeaked, the red flush on her cheeks painted lower, until her throat was tinted red.
Your prize lay in sight, with those plush thighs lifted up like that, your silicone cock was pressing against the rim of her hole. You'd have to go slow, but you knew she could handle it, at least with a little help. You reached back to your waist and pressed the plunger of the cumtube, letting a healthy dribble of the cum-like lube seep out, coating her hole in the lubrication Pressing forward into her was divine, the way she arched was exquisite, her low groan was more beautiful than any symphony you could imagine. Her fingers scrabbled against the back of the chair as inch by inch, you pressed the toy into her, the base of the harness pressing back against you and giving you a delicious spark of pleasurable friction.
"Thaaaaaat's it, good girl, taking it so good for me, sooooo good" you murmured sweet praises down upon your girl, and you could feel the way it affected her, every gentle roll of your hips slipped more and more into her, until the bulbous knot was nestled against her hole. Stars it was amazing. Briefly you wondered if this was what she felt, when she was atop you, the need to dominate, the desire to see you broken, that all consuming urge to own you in your entirety. You didn't get this urge very often but when you did, it wasn't this strong. No, something about the setting, something about how she was laid out under you, it was driving you wild.
Ok so like a few years ago, I got really into giving good compliments as a sadism thing. If your observational skills are good enough and you're half decent at writing and delivery, you can cause someone to shed tears, to struggle to even parse what you're saying and repeat it back over and over, and force them to engage with differences between negative aspects of their identity and reality. Most people just aren't very good at giving compliments, so a lot of people have a really low tolerance for it. I mean in large part I just really like making cute girls cry. But also this is probably not what you mean by having a praise kink?
I adore doing this, watching someone, observing them, really looking at them, noticing those little ticks and habbits that everyone has, asking questions about them until you can trave the whole path of why they do something, make them realize things that they themself don't even realize and then further pointing out why they do it.
It's intimate, it's forcefully baring their soul, it's making them open up to you in a way they never even could conceive of. It's like curling your fingers along a wound they didn't know they had, collecting smears of blood on a wound just to make them wince and look at you with that awe inspired look because nobody else had seen the wound.
It breaks a person down, stripping them of the shell and wrapping twine around their heart just to see them gasp for air, and you're seen as so kind for it. You get to coo and crone "No no sweetheart, it's okay, let it out, you can cry for me, you don't have to be strong" talking down to them like they're a child, reducing someone to the barest layers of their truama only to build them back up again so that they worship you.
They then start to notice the things you tell them, in a way you make them see themself the way you do, you change them so irreversibly that amidst all the praise and wordless affirmation, your hand is forever in their head, like a parasite.
Whumpee who, prior to being kidnapped, talked a lot about things like "Fate" and "Destiny", like subscribing to the belief that eveyone has a life path that they follow, knowingly or not. Maybe it's a religious thing, or just a personal belief they subscribe to.
Cut to Whumper, someone who's in Whumpee's life, and hears them talk about this idea of fate often.
Cut to Whumper taking Whumpee.
Cut to Whumper tormenting whumpee.
Taunting Whumpee.
"This is just the plan for you my dear! I'm so sorry but it's our paths, you and I cannot choose them"
At every stop and turn, every boot to Whumpee's ribs ans slash at their arms. Mocking their belief, throwing their words back at them, using Whumpee's belief as fuel for Whumper's torment.
Whumpee who forsakes that belief pretry quickly, who begs for Whumper to let them go.
"Please! There's nothing higher, there's no one, please just let me go, please make it stop!"
Whumper who uses that against Whumpee.
Once you sacrifice one belief, how easy it is to sacrifice more and more.
Whumper whe steals away everything that Whumpee was, just for fun, ruining them, changing them, and then just abandoning them.
Maybe letting them go in some foreign country, or killing them, or even just being so sure of themself that they just put Whumpee back into their own life, sure that the broken toy won't speak a word of what happened.
shout out to "i need to sit down" btw. shout out to the whumpees who cannot catch their breath, whether panic or dread or pain or exhaustion keeps them heaving and gasping for air, who whisper "i can't" as they slump to the floor. shout out to whumpees only held up by teammates, trying their best to look strong, but reaching a point where all they can say is "down, please, let me down--". do you see the vision
Whumpee who's escaped Whumper, or at least the massive manor that Whumper has been keeping Whumpee in.
Whumpee who's running through the woods, running hard because Whumper is after them. Whumpee who's stumbling over roots, feet scraped and torn to hells and back because they were never allowed shoes. Whumpee who's arms are bleeding and bruised from covering their face from branches whipping past their face. Whumpee who's crying because they're outside for the first time in months, because the sun is beautiful, the air smells amazing, and they feel so free from everything.
Whumpee who breaks out from the woods into a field, bare feet pounding against the ground, arms swinging with their sprint. Whumpee who's breathing so hard. Whumpee who hasn't even exercised in the slightest in months of containment. Whumpee who knows their body can go further, but their body is weaker than they remember.
Whumpee who stumbles, rolling in the dirt, their body spent and exausted, they couldn't even get up if they wanted to, just laying on their back looking up at the sun, and feeling betrayed by their own body. Whumpee who's mind is screaming at them to get up, to keep going, don't stop.
Whumpee who couldn't even move their head as they heard Whumper break through into the clearing. Whumpee who's crying again, silent angry tears at themself. Whumper who strides right up to where Whumpee is laying, cool as can be, like they were never even worried about Whumpee getting away.
Whumper who knew that Whumpee had run the wrong way, there was miles upon miles of forest out this way, and with the tracking chip Whumper had put in Whumpee, Whumper was never worried, better to just let the stupid thing wear itself out.
Ready to come home pet? It's warm now, but the nights get so cold, and there's so many dangerous things out here, so many things to hurt you. Well, so many new things to hurt you, let's get you back to your cage, you've made me late for tea, we'll have to rectify this behavior later.
We need to talk more about loneliness in whump. But not just the “oh I haven’t seen anyone in a while” kind of loneliness.
A dehumanized Whumpee, perhaps a pet or living weapon, feels isolated because no one actually talks to them. Maybe Whumper talks at them, but no one really talks to them. People need socialization. And they just don’t get that. Not like they need to.
A famous whumpee who just doesn’t have any real friends. No They have people around them, people who love them, but no one who knows them. They have no one to be their self with.
A whumpee who’s gone through something they can’t talk about. Maybe it’s shame, blackmail, a threat to the ones they care about. Maybe it’s still going on. And whumpee can’t tell anyone, even though they might be surrounded by people who want to help, who care. And they feel so very alone.
Follow up idea, A whumpee who is alone as such, with a whumper who does talk to them.
The contrast, the to and fro, I like the idea of a famous wumpee, somehow kidnapped from their home by a crazed fan, or better yet, a rival in the industry. Despite the torment, the beatings, the cutting, the litteral hell whumpee is being put through, Whumper does talk to them, listens to them, in some twisted fucked up way, whumpee has come to crave whumper's conversation.
I want to see more characters breaks down after something happens, I want the Hero to be able to take down the villain, despite talking about something traumatic to the hero. That sort of stuff, I want characters who still get the job done, and once they're done being paraded about through the town, and celebrated, and feasted with, they're alone in their room for the first time in what feels like forever, and they don't have to mask anymore, they let go, break down, crumble to their knees, clutch their chest, and sob, wail, cry and go weak. I want a hero to stay in their room for days after, unable to pull themselves out of the funk, one last bleeding wound the villain gouged in their mind.
thank you both for always tagging and including me <3333
both picrews look so cute and stunning, each showcasing your personalised identities beautifully. i love how they both express a slight cheekiness ~ @bpd-kitty & @strawberribunni3
1. do the picrew here, however you see yourself
2. put 3-6 emojis of your liking (if u can)
3. say something nice about prev’s picrew!! <- the most important step
4. tag anyone!
💕✨🧸
tagging: @whimsicaldaydreamss @miwwk @bunniegloom @puredollheart @meositta @delusionalbestie @anqelicbf @babybunnywings + anyone else who wants to join (ps. no pressure <3)
This was fun. I love the picrew things! Yours is very cute!
😭😅😵💫🥀🩶🔪
@antii-me @bluesolitude @desvinity @puppyjaws @gizmosan @a3phiroth @doll-unadulterated @ughreallycutecryptid @throne0fglass I'm not sure who all to tag so ill just put a few but anyone that sees this can participate if you'd like ^^
Yours is so freaking adorable and aloof! 🥹🫂 hoodie life for evaaa 🩵
💕🥹🙈☺️🥰🩵
I loveeee this so much it’s so fun & adorable! I might even update my pfp! 🙈🙈 ahh so easy 🥹
I really am not sure who to tag! So everyone is open to play! But here are some homies maybeee: @softestbigbro, @nurglesgifts, @obligatoryhonesty, @fullmetalatlas-blog-blog
I wasn't tagged (how dare you I love picrew and dress up games) but I made mine anyway!
For @softestbigbro I obvi have to bring up the whole vampire look!! At least that's what I think it is. I especially like that it's not all dark and Gothic which isn't usually something you'd see. It makes me wonder if you would have hair like that in an ideal world, it's also one of my favorite colors!
I'm tagging: @oldermenloveralways @foncethefool and @breadshot 💕
You can also TEXT "START" to 678-678 or go to their website! There are 700+ of you following me. You don't need to be from the US to reblog this. Reblog.
What happens when you push too far? When your words cut deeper than you mean, and your actions set something primal in motion? Maddy is about to find out—because Wendy isn’t just her friend... she’s a predator in disguise, and tonight, Maddy is the prey. Get ready for a chase.
The storm had been brewing all day. Thick, lazy clouds dragging themselves across the sky like bruises. As afternoon faded into evening, the air got heavier, the rumble of thunder becoming a low, steady growl, shaking the walls of Wendy’s cabin.
The place was tucked far out in the woods, miles from town. A project of love and survival Wendy had built with her own two hands. Solar panels lined the roof, and a massive metal antenna clawed up into the sky, scraping enough signal from the heavens to get internet. Inside, the place was warm, glowing with the soft light of well-loved lamps and the smell of wood and rain.
Maddy had claimed her usual spot on the deep couch, legs draped over the arm, phone clutched in both hands as she gushed, voice pitching high with excitement.
“Oh my god, Wendy, you don’t even understand,” she giggled, kicking her bare feet. "Like, he’s literally the hottest guy I’ve ever talked to. I'm talking like... stupid hot. Like, 'accidentally-walk-into-traffic-staring' hot."
Wendy, curled into the armchair across from her, only hummed, noncommittal, flipping a page of her book without looking up.
Maddy barely noticed. She was buzzing, high on the cheap wine they'd opened earlier and the attention she imagined she was going to get from this latest boy.
“And he’s like, super into me too? He’s been sending me these crazy texts, like, totally obsessed," Maddy gushed, wriggling with delighted pride. "I mean, duh, right? But like, still."
Wendy’s eyes flicked up, briefly, her voice flat.
“Sounds promising.”
Maddy blinked.
Something about the deadpan tone needled her. She twisted to face Wendy more fully, tossing a pillow lazily in her direction.
“Oh my god, could you be any more boring?" she laughed. "Seriously, dude, live a little.”
Wendy caught the pillow without looking, setting it aside.
“Forgive me for not getting hyped over another asshole you’ll forget by next month.”
The room cooled a little. The storm cracked a whip of thunder outside.
Maddy's mouth parted, stunned for a second.
Then her laugh snapped sharp and bright, like glass breaking.
“Okay, bitter much?” she said, sitting up, tossing her hair over one shoulder. Her voice took on that mocking, sing-song cadence—half valley girl, half knife.
“Like, seriously, Wendy, what would you even know about relationships? You’re like—” she paused for dramatic effect, eyes glittering with the mean edge of someone who thinks they're still joking—
“—a celibate lumberjack or something." She burst out laughing at her own joke. "Oh my god, it’s actually kinda sad when you think about it. When was the last time you even got some? Like, legit, have you ever?”
Wendy’s hand tightened around her book.
The wood frame of the chair creaked faintly under her grip.
Maddy didn’t notice.
She was too busy spiraling, too buzzed on her own voice, the thrill of teasing.
“Maybe if you like, got laid or whatever, you wouldn’t be such a grumpy old lady about me having a great time.” She smirked, tilting her head. "Just sayingggg~"
Wendy slowly closed her book.
Placed it carefully on the side table.
The lights flickered once, the storm snarling louder outside.
The shift was subtle, but immediate.
The way Wendy sat back in her chair, spine straightening, hands going still, eyes narrowing—
Maddy’s smile was a little sharper now, her teeth flashing in the lamplight as she leaned in like a shark scenting blood.
“Honestly, you’re kinda lucky you’re jacked, Wendy. Like, seriously. You're so buff, you're practically a dude at this point.” She laughed—hard, shrill, mean.
“I mean, you live out here in the woods like some cryptid. When’s the last time you even talked to a boy, huh? Not counting the Amazon delivery guy?”
Wendy’s lips pulled back from her teeth in something too sharp to be called a smile.
Her voice came low and rough, the sound scraping like claws against the wood of the cabin.
“Maybe I don’t waste my time chasing every pretty face that glances my way,” she said. “Maybe I’m not so desperate for attention I’ll crawl into any bed that opens up.”
Maddy recoiled like she'd been slapped.
But she covered it fast—too fast—laughing again, louder now, trying to stay on top, to turn the hurt into more fuel.
“Awww, poor Wendy,” she crooned in a syrupy, mocking voice. “All those muscles and no one to appreciate 'em. No wonder you’re so cranky.” She tilted her head, fake sympathy dripping off her words.
“You’re just mad 'cause you know you’re gonna die out here alone, like one of those crazy ladies with fifty cats.”
The storm rumbled louder, the walls of the cabin vibrating.
Wendy stood up.
Not fast. Not loud.
Just a slow, deliberate movement—like a wolf rising from its haunches.
Her voice, when it came again, was so low it barely cut through the rumble of thunder.
“You should shut your mouth, Maddy.”
Maddy smirked, emboldened, arms crossing over her chest.
“Oh yeah?” she tossed back. “Or what? Gonna flex me to death?”
The lights flickered again.
Outside, the wind screamed against the cabin walls.
Wendy took a step forward.
And another.
Maddy’s smirk faltered when she saw the look in Wendy’s eyes—something dark and wild and not human stirring there.
The way her lip curled back, the way her shoulders shifted under her shirt like the muscles were too big, too wrong.
Another step.
The air got heavy, thick, Maddy’s breath catching on it like trying to breathe syrup.
“Wendy?” she said, the bravado cracking a little at the edges.
“This isn’t funny.”
Wendy smiled.
Teeth gleaming.
No warmth behind it.
“Who said I was joking?”
Maddy ran.
Her bare feet sank into the moss-slick ground, every step jolting pain through her aching body. Frigid rain battered her skin in sharp, punishing drops, each one a shock to her already numbing nerves.
Just minutes earlier, Wendy had grabbed her by the front of her hoodie, slammed her through the front door, and thrown her into the mud, the storm swallowing her cries. Maddy had barely gotten her bearings when she heard it—the cracks and snaps of bones breaking, reshaping.
"Be good for something for once," Wendy’s voice had snarled, guttural and changing, barely human.
"R U N."
Now, every desperate breath Maddy took was thick with panic, her sobs tearing from her raw throat. The forest was a blur—dark trees, slick earth, the pounding rhythm of something massive crashing through the undergrowth behind her.
Not something.
Wendy.
Maddy’s mind babbled apologies that never reached her lips properly, her body moving on sheer animal instinct. Mud clung to her ruined designer clothes, streaking up her legs and arms, but she didn’t care—nothing mattered except running.
A blinding flash of lightning tore across the sky—
Maddy screamed—
—and slammed full-force into the trunk of a tree.
The impact threw her backward, knocking the air from her lungs in a pitiful wheeze. Pain radiated from her face; hot blood poured from her nose, mingling with the rain and dirt.
And then—
Before she could even think about getting up—
It was on her.
Heavy, clawed paws crashed down onto her shoulders, pinning her to the mud-soaked earth. Fingers, still half-human but grotesquely warped with gnarled claws, dug into her skin, holding her down.
Above her, a monstrous maw snapped open—then clamped around her throat.
Not hard enough to tear.
Not hard enough to kill.
But enough.
Enough to hurt. Enough to crush her desperate struggles into quivering submission.
Maddy sobbed openly now, the sounds raw and broken, the storm stealing her voice into the endless night. Her tears blended with the rain, her whole body trembling and spasming beneath Wendy’s terrible weight.
She thrashed weakly, her fingers scrabbling uselessly against the mud, trying to worm her way free.
Trying, and failing.
"P-please— Wendy—I'm sorry—I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry—" she cried, each word hitching on a sharp, panicked gasp, her body wracked with shudders.
But the monster atop her didn’t let go.
It pressed closer, the jaws tightening slightly—a promise in the pressure against her delicate throat.
A reminder of what could happen if Maddy dared to disobey again.
The rain was unrelenting, each drop biting into Maddy's skin, soaking through her clothes, but it didn’t matter. Maddy’s body trembled beneath Wendy's heavy weight, fear licking at her spine with each passing second. She could taste the bitter fear on her tongue, could hear the sound of her heart pounding louder than the storm that raged around them. Her fingers curled into the wet ground as she fought to pull away, but Wendy’s claws dug into the earth beside her, pinning her.
The cold seeping into her skin only made everything feel sharper, more raw. Wendy's paws pressed against her chest, and Maddy could feel her body pressing closer. The fabric of her hoodie was soaked through, clinging to her like a second skin, but it wasn’t enough. Wendy wanted more—needed more.
With a growl, Wendy’s claws ripped through the fabric, the sound of tearing cotton mixing with the violent rhythm of the storm. Maddy gasped, her eyes wide, her breath sharp as the fabric of her hoodie fell away. The cold air bit into her exposed skin, but the chill was nothing compared to the heat of Wendy’s breath, so close it made Maddy’s chest heave.
Maddy’s heart pounded in her throat as Wendy's sharp gaze ran over her exposed body. A belly button piercing gleamed, silver and delicate against the stark contrast of Maddy’s soft skin. A small, girly tattoo, a heart on her hip, inked in pale pink, a remnant of a forgotten whimsy that now felt so out of place. Her body—her perfect, feminine, delicate body—was exposed, and Wendy's wolfish growl reverberated deep within her chest.
Maddy’s mind screamed no, but her body shuddered as Wendy’s large paw brushed across her stomach, the touch almost too gentle for a moment, before the roughened fur and claws returned, tracing her ribs. Wendy’s fangs scraped dangerously close to Maddy’s neck, sending a ripple of tension through her, her pulse racing as a flutter of excitement twisted in her gut, mingled with the terrifying rush of adrenaline.
"Please... Wendy," Maddy whimpered, the words lost in the storm's deafening roar. Her body betrayed her again, the shiver of excitement racing down her spine as Wendy nipped at her exposed flesh. A sharp pang of pain and pleasure combined, making Maddy gasp, a soft moan escaping her lips before she could stop it.
Wendy froze, her glowing eyes narrowing, the heat of her body radiating against Maddy’s skin. Her jaw tightened, her fangs flashing, the wolfish instincts fighting for control. Wendy’s grip on Maddy’s body tightened, her claws brushing against the smooth skin of her stomach before moving lower, teasing the waistband of Maddy’s soaked, ruined jeans.
But Wendy’s mind was a war zone, and with every inch closer, with every hot breath against Maddy’s skin, the struggle inside Wendy grew. She wanted to mark her—wanted to claim, to break, to possess. But there was a flicker of hesitation, of self-control, a tiny voice buried deep within Wendy’s instincts that tried to stop her.
Maddy’s body trembled beneath her, the warmth of fear mixing with something else, something that made her want to crawl out of her own skin. Her nipples peaked, her legs trembling as Wendy’s claws brushed against her skin, every touch electric. Maddy tried to move, to escape, but Wendy only tightened her grip, pulling her body closer, her fangs grazing Maddy’s throat.
"You don’t get to run now," Wendy’s voice rumbled, husky and raw, the words pulling Maddy back into the moment. Wendy’s sharp eyes locked onto hers, full of hunger. "Not now. Not after everything."
The weight of Wendy's stare made Maddy's insides twist. The fear was overwhelming, but so was the strange, unwanted reaction to Wendy’s proximity, the way her body betrayed her, longing for something she couldn’t quite grasp. She could feel the wetness between her legs, a mix of fear and confusion muddling her emotions.
The storm raged on, but in that moment, it was just the two of them. Wendy, the animal, and Maddy, the prey. Maddy’s breath caught as Wendy’s claws grazed the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, the wetness of the rain mixing with the heat of her body. Wendy’s grip shifted—powerful and possessive, the weight of her body pushing Maddy deeper into the ground.
And in that moment, as Maddy's voice cracked in a sob of apology, Wendy let her instincts take over.
Wendy’s eyes locked onto Maddy’s, glowing with that dangerous, hungry light as she loomed over her, a predator ready to strike. Maddy’s breath came in ragged gasps, her body still trembling, but it wasn’t just fear now. Her chest rose and fell, flushed and hot, a fire building deep inside her, one she couldn’t ignore even as she hated it. Every inch of Wendy’s wolfish form, the weight of her, the primal heat radiating from her—it all made her skin crawl, but also ache.
“Stop it, Wendy…” Maddy whimpered, but her voice was weaker now, cracking in the midst of her breathless sobs. She tried to turn her head, but Wendy’s jaws snapped in front of her face, and the sound of it made Maddy’s pulse race faster. Her stomach flipped as she recoiled, the heat between her legs growing impossible to ignore.
Wendy didn’t care. She didn’t need words. The tension in the air was thick as she lowered herself, the growl vibrating deep in her chest. Her wolfish maw hovered over Maddy’s throat, a heavy, damp breath whispering against her skin. Her fangs grazed the soft flesh, just enough to send a chill down Maddy’s spine, making her body shiver, and her nipples tighten.
And then, the beast’s lips parted, and Wendy’s tongue—a hot, rough swipe—licked against Maddy’s neck, tasting the salty, rain-soaked skin. Maddy’s breath hitched as a shock of pleasure shot through her, curling deep in her stomach. Her whole body seemed to jerk, her legs trembling with the sensation. Her mind couldn’t keep up with what was happening, the fear still so present, but now a growing desire that made her stomach twist in confusion.
Wendy’s wolfish eyes narrowed, taking in the tremble that wracked Maddy’s body, the soft moan that escaped her lips. The feeling was intoxicating. Wendy let out a low, rumbling growl, pressing her body down onto Maddy’s, grinding her heavy hips into Maddy’s smaller frame. Maddy’s breath hitched at the sudden pressure, a stuttered gasp escaping her as she felt Wendy’s powerful form against her own.
The wetness between her legs was undeniable now, slick against her skin as Wendy moved slowly, testing the human's limits, her claws brushing over Maddy’s chest, the sensation sharp, electrifying. Maddy’s skin burned, a blush creeping across her cheeks as Wendy moved lower, her body closer, until Maddy could feel every inch of Wendy’s fur against her. The primal weight of her was suffocating, but it was also terrifyingly exciting.
“Mmm…you taste so good,” Wendy’s voice was thick with hunger, a barely-contained growl beneath the words, making Maddy shudder. The werewolf’s jaws snapped again, dangerously close to Maddy’s ear, and Maddy shivered at the sound, the tension in her body reaching its peak.
Wendy’s body slid lower still, moving against Maddy’s thighs, a powerful motion that made Maddy gasp again, the friction between them driving her insane. Wendy’s paws pinned Maddy’s wrists to the wet earth as she lowered herself, licking at the delicate skin of Maddy’s hip. Her sharp fangs grazed the tattoo there, sending another shock of pleasure through Maddy’s body.
Maddy’s eyes fluttered as her body was wracked with conflicting emotions—fear, yes, but something else, something she couldn’t deny. The pleasure was too much, so raw, so real. She whimpered, her hips bucking involuntarily, pressing closer to Wendy’s wolfish form. The wolf didn’t hesitate. She surged forward, her body grinding against Maddy’s, the feeling of fur against skin unbearable, intense. Every roll of Wendy’s body against her made Maddy’s stomach clench, a burning heat pooling low in her belly.
The storm raged above them, but all Maddy could feel was Wendy, her claws, her fangs, the heavy rhythm of their bodies. Wendy’s growl became more guttural, more primal, as her hips thrust forward, pushing Maddy’s body deeper into the mud beneath them. Maddy’s head spun, pleasure mixing with the rush of fear. She couldn’t stop the cries that spilled from her lips, couldn't stop the tightness growing in her chest as her body betrayed her.
“Wendy… please…” Maddy gasped, but the plea was lost in a mix of frustration and desire, her words tangled in the overwhelming sensations. She couldn’t escape the hot pulse of her body, the pressure building. She couldn’t escape the way Wendy’s wolfish form pressed down on her, the way her claws dug into the earth beside Maddy’s head.
Maddy’s body couldn’t take it anymore. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling as she reached her peak, her whole body stiffening as the pressure exploded, the warmth flooding through her. Wendy growled in satisfaction, her body stiffening in time with Maddy’s as she too felt the rush of release, the primal satisfaction of claiming, of marking. Their bodies moved together, driven by instinct, by the storm.
————————————————
The first thing Maddy became aware of was the sore ache in her muscles, in her skin. Her body felt bruised, tender, but it wasn’t just physical—it was something deeper. Her mind was still foggy from the night before, but the weight of what had happened—the rawness, the fear, the pleasure—pressed down on her like a heavy blanket. She flinched, but when she moved, a dull, aching sensation reminded her that she could barely lift a limb.
Her eyes cracked open, and the dim light of early morning filtered through the small windows of Wendy’s cabin. The storm outside had finally passed, but the quiet stillness left a strange, suffocating tension in the air. It didn’t feel peaceful—it felt heavy.
Wendy was beside her, lying sprawled out on the floor in front of the fire. Her wolfish form had faded, leaving behind the familiar human body, though it was covered in marks, scratches, bruises—traces of the night. Maddy couldn’t help but notice the dark bruising along Wendy’s neck, the redness of her skin where Maddy’s own fingers had gripped tight. They were both battered, both marked, and yet neither of them said a word.
Maddy winced as she tried to sit up, only to be met with a sharp pain in her lower back. Her legs, too, ached—she was sore in ways that made her want to hide from herself. Her skin was dotted with marks that weren’t there the night before, deep purple bruises, red scratches, bite marks that were both terrifying and, disturbingly, kind of... erotic. Her fingers brushed across her own skin as she tried to cover the parts of her body that felt exposed, but she couldn’t ignore the faint, pulsing heat still lingering between her thighs. A deep flush crept up her neck.
She turned her head, glancing at Wendy. The werewolf girl stirred slightly, her eyes cracking open to reveal that same hungry gleam from the night before, though it was dimmer now—more tired. Wendy let out a deep sigh, and the tension in the air between them shifted, the silence heavy with the unsaid.
“You’re still alive,” Wendy muttered, her voice low and rough, as if she too were trying to recover from the chaos of last night. Her eyes flickered over Maddy’s body, lingering on the marks left on her skin. "I thought you were gonna break into pieces last night."
Maddy opened her mouth, but no words came out at first. She didn’t want to think about it, but the way her pulse quickened told her she couldn’t pretend it didn’t happen. "I didn’t ask for it," she said finally, her voice trembling more than she intended.
"You didn’t have to," Wendy replied, her voice rough with something darker, but with a strange tenderness behind it, as if she too felt the weight of what had passed between them.
There was a long pause, and Maddy felt the familiar discomfort settle in her chest. The things she couldn’t quite reconcile—how she’d been torn apart by fear, by desire, by Wendy—clung to her like the dampness in the air. Still, she pushed herself to her feet, wincing as her body protested. Wendy’s eyes followed her, watching, unreadable.
"You’re not gonna tell anyone, right?" Maddy asked, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat. It wasn’t a question she really wanted to ask, but she couldn’t ignore it.
Wendy’s lips curved upward, but it wasn’t a smile—it was more of a wolfish grin, the same one from the night before. "Wouldn’t dream of it," she said, her voice teasing, but the tension still crackling beneath it. "But maybe next time... you should watch your mouth. You’re mine now, remember?"
Maddy’s breath caught at the possessiveness in her tone, but it wasn’t all just fear now. There was something else. Maybe it was the heat that still lingered, the way her body ached, or maybe it was the feeling of having been marked, claimed—owned in some strange, primal way.
"I’m not yours," Maddy said, though the words felt more like a question than a statement.
Wendy’s eyes locked onto hers, a glint of mischief in them. "Sure you’re not," she teased, her grin turning dark again. "But maybe we’ll see about that next time."
And with that, the tension between them didn’t fully dissipate—it lingered in the quiet, unresolved, as the two of them simply existed in the aftermath of something far too complicated to name.
Maddy turned away from Wendy and headed for the door, her limbs aching, but there was a strange pull in her chest that made her hesitate. She’d never really understood what it meant to be caught between desire and fear, but now, she had no choice but to live with it.
When she stepped outside into the crisp morning air, her body still felt raw, but there was something more—a reminder of the night that wouldn’t fade. Wendy’s voice followed her, soft and teasing, but there was a weight in it, too. "I’ll be waiting," she called, and Maddy wasn’t sure if she meant it as a threat or a promise.
A continuation of a story I'm writing for @transneonneko I'm finally finding the pace for it and I think you'll enjoy it~
Here's your content warning, it gets gory, and I kind of got wishy washy with the perspective.
She told me to strip and lie down. That my past was gone, that pain was temporary. I thought I knew fear—until I felt the saw hit bone. This isn’t a story of survival. It’s a story of transformation... and the woman who made me hers.
I remember the first time—vaguely.
"We all have to start somewhere," Admin had said, though even then, her voice held a trace of reluctance. I didn’t understand it at the time. I don’t think I could have. No amount of warning would have prepared me for what she would do.
I remember the ride to her home most clearly. Her words echoed in my head, sharp and final:
"Your possessions no longer matter. Your purpose now is to serve."
I’d balked. Of course I had. I didn’t own much—just a few family photos I didn’t completely hate, and a handful of little trinkets from old friends—but they still meant something. I would’ve liked a chance to say goodbye.
But Admin had stopped me, hand on my chin, guiding me to look into her eyes. They were green—exhausted, ancient, and unreadable.
"Listen, my sweet little experiment," she said softly. "From the moment you sit in my car, you will be dead to the world. Whatever name you had, whatever life you lived, will be gone. I will leave no trace of you behind. There are no half-ways or compromises. You're either mine... or you're not."
She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to.
It felt like I was signing a death certificate, and maybe I was. But there was no malice in her voice, no glee in her threat. Just... certainty. Like this was inevitable.
I felt the weight of that. Her voice, her presence—it swallowed everything I had been. If she was a goddess, then I was less than a servant. I was a follower. A thing to be molded.
My nerves twisted, hot and sick in my stomach, but I nodded anyway. I looked up at her and murmured, "I’m yours, Miss... uh..."
The spell cracked. I winced. "Wh-what’s your name, Miss?"
She frowned, like I’d said something inappropriate, something wrong. She hummed, then answered, flatly:
"Just call me Admin. Don’t humanize me."
At the time, I thought she was trying to be divine. Aloof. Beyond names and identity. Too great for something so simple.
But now I know better.
She wasn’t trying to be worshipped. She wasn’t pretending to be a goddess.
She was warning me.
She knew what she was doing was evil. She knew it was monstrous. And she’d already accepted that. She didn’t care to be human anymore.
Because in her eyes, she never really was.
-----------------------------------------
They pulled up to a yellowing one-story house, its siding faded and flaking in the sun. The gravel driveway crunched beneath their feet with each step—loud in the stillness—as she trailed behind Admin. There was no lawn to speak of, just brittle weeds pushing through dirt and dry patches where grass had long given up trying to grow.
The front door stuck slightly in the frame, and Admin gave it a practiced shove. Inside, the air was cool—stagnant, like the house had been holding its breath. The entryway was small, claustrophobic, a stack of dusty cardboard boxes leaning precariously in one corner. The faded red carpet was threadbare and dull, crusted with dirt and the flattened corpses of long-dead bugs. It didn’t smell like rot or mildew, just... stale. Lifeless.
She followed Admin through a narrow doorway into the kitchen. And that’s when the unease began to settle in.
The kitchen was painfully ordinary. Dated linoleum peeled at the corners, the wallpaper—yellow daisies on a green background—had bubbled in the heat. A battered kettle sat on the stove, its steel bottom blackened with old burn marks. The table was cluttered, lived-in: a pile of unopened mail leaned against a stained coffee mug, a cold cup of tea sat forgotten near a wrinkled newspaper with bright orange sauce smeared across the front page. She could still smell it—tangy, artificial. Something like SpaghettiOs.
There was no art on the walls. No magnets on the fridge. No signs that anyone had truly lived here in years, despite the evidence of recent activity. It was as if the house had once belonged to someone real, but they’d died, and now Admin was simply squatting in their memory.
They moved into the hallway, and it was more of the same: cracked white paint peeling at the corners, a small table with a chipped ceramic lamp and a bowl full of candy. Not Halloween candy—just a random assortment of sweets. The kind you'd find in a waiting room. Hard caramels, dusty peppermints, those strawberry ones wrapped in red foil with the gooey center. None of them looked touched.
A door stood ajar to the bathroom, just long enough for her to catch a glimpse of its blue-tiled floor, shining faintly under the glow of the setting sun. It was spotless. Too spotless.
Then Admin stopped at a door at the end of the hall. She produced a key from her pocket, turned it in the lock, and opened the basement door. A cold draft spilled out from the darkness beyond.
Everything changed.
The basement steps creaked underfoot as they descended, but the sound was swallowed by the heavy, muffled hum of machines. The light here was sterile and bright—oppressive in its clarity. The air smelled like antiseptic, ozone, and something faintly coppery.
The floor was gleaming white tile, scrubbed clean, reflecting the flicker of the fluorescent bulbs above. The contrast was dizzying. Upstairs had felt like an old dollhouse—this was something out of a nightmare hospital.
Black countertops stretched along the walls, each cluttered with instruments she didn’t recognize. She picked out a microscope, a bunsen burner, even what looked like a centrifuge. But others were foreign. Strange vials of clear or viscous fluid, metal arms like skeletal hands mounted on rails, a tank in the corner softly hissing vapor.
And then—near the center of the room—was the table. Surgical, elevated, flanked by monitors and tubing. Its leather restraints were undone, but the buckles were slick with wear.
Her eyes drifted downward, to the drain in the floor beneath the table. A soft trail of pink led toward it, delicate and translucent as watercolor at first glance—but unmistakable. Blood.
She stared for a moment longer than she should have, transfixed.
This was no laboratory. This was a sanctum. A cathedral to something divine and deranged.
And she was about to become part of its worship.
“Strip, and lay facedown on the table,” Admin said, her voice a hum, casual as the whir of a machine powering on.
She hesitated.
But Admin didn’t press—she simply turned away, already pulling tools from drawers, placing them haphazardly onto a standing tray beside the steel table. Clinks and clatters filled the silence, a metallic overture to what was coming.
After a long, reluctant moment, she obeyed. Her hands moved automatically, shedding worn, sweat-stained clothes one piece at a time. She left them in a pile on the floor. There were no mirrors in the lab, but she knew her body by heart.
She had been born wrong. A boy, assigned and raised as such, until she broke free and started HRT. Years of hormones had reshaped her—softened her edges, filled her chest with perky, sensitive weight, plumped her thighs and ass just enough. Her belly had a little pudge, and she loved it. It wasn’t perfect. But it was hers. As close to the ideal as her human body could get.
The table was cold. Frigid. Goosebumps prickled along her arms as she laid down, skin against sterile steel.
Admin rolled something closer. She glanced up and instantly regretted it.
It looked like a spider. A nightmare of surgical design. Eight limbs curled, poised like it might leap. Its bulky, reflective body gleamed under fluorescent lights, crawling with pin-thin needles and strange ports. It smelled like disinfectant and dread.
“Down,” Admin said, voice suddenly sharp. Final.
Straps wrapped around her limbs—ankles, wrists, waist, forehead. Leather bit into skin. She gave a small, useless tug. There was no give. No escape.
“What are you doing?” she asked. Her voice was small, almost curious.
Admin sighed.
A cool cloth slid down her back. Then the numbness spread.
“Best you don’t know,” Admin muttered. “If you live… I’m sorry.”
She didn’t have time to process that.
Pain exploded through her spine.
She couldn’t see what was happening, couldn’t lift her head, couldn’t move. But later—after the healing, after she was shown the video—she learned every detail.
The scalpel had split her open with surgical ease. A clean line carved down from her neck to her lower back. She’d screamed the entire time—sobbing, pleading, choking on every breath—but Admin didn’t pause.
Forceps pinned back flaps of skin. The scalpel dug deeper, parting tissue and muscle until the stark white of bone shone through. Admin worked with cold, exacting efficiency. Her hands never trembled. Not even when the bone saw began its song.
The saw sang up her spine, cracking her ribs free one by one. She remembered flashes—white-hot agony, her own voice breaking, the wet, grinding sound of flesh and bone giving way. She passed out. Came back. Passed out again.
Only the top portion of her spine remained—keeping her heart and lungs obedient. Admin paused. Retrieved the replacement.
The mechanical spine gleamed like obsidian laced with silver. It was sleek, terrifying, too perfect to be human. Admin held it like a sacred thing—then took a breath, and severed the final connection.
That was the moment she died.
Flatlined. Gone.
Admin didn’t panic. She simply pressed the spider-machine to the yawning wound. Pressed a button.
It came alive.
Needles punched into meat. Limbs curled and pierced. Metal fused to living tissue. The machine worked fast, anchoring itself to the remnants of her anatomy, embedding each segment deep within her back. The sound was obscene—wet, mechanical, inhuman.
Admin held her breath. Stared.
Silence stretched.
Then—her back rose. A breath.
A gasp.
Admin exhaled. Relief softened her features, just for a second.
And then she was moving again—threading needle through skin, sewing her back up with methodical care. Blood was everywhere, spattered across her lab coat, smeared on the pristine tile. Some had soaked through—seeped into Admin’s sleeves, her gloves, her skin.
She didn’t wipe it away.
Not yet.
-----------------------------------------
I remember waking up in a cot—slowly, sluggish, but not in pain. Just... quiet.
I sat up. Fast. Too fast. The motion surged through me with more strength than I was used to, like someone had tightened every bolt inside me.
"You're awake," Admin hummed.
My gaze snapped to the right. She was seated lazily in a chair, one leg crossed over the other, bouncing idly. A book rested in her lap, eyes skimming lines with tired ease.
"You're the first one to survive," she said, lips twitching into a smile as her gaze finally met mine.
"That was hell," I blurted out.
It made her laugh—a sharp, sudden sound that made the sterile room feel warped for a second.
"Yeah," she chuckled, "shit must’ve sucked. Won’t suck after this though."
"What did you do to me?" The words came out soft, like a whine.
"One of the hardest surgeries you’ll go through," Admin replied, flipping her book shut with a soft thump. "I replaced your spine with one of my own designs. Bad news? That was the worst one. Good news? We can now intercept pain signals. You won’t feel a thing in the next couple surgeries."
And I remember—
I was excited.
God help me, I was excited.
Because I was more. Just a little more.
For the first time in my life, I was more.
"Your name... it wasn’t important before," Admin said softly. Her tone changed, almost affectionate. "But now, you’ll be called by your project name: Visceral Integrated Reconstruction Android..."
